


Binti Ra’s al Ghul

by lettersofwrittencollective



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersofwrittencollective/pseuds/lettersofwrittencollective
Summary: The daughter of the Demons Head has been trained as an assassin. Learning how to kill a person in a multitude of different ways before being allowed beyond her mountain. Trained from a young age, she excels at the work before traveling with her father. One day, his travels take them to Kattegat where she meets the Ragnarssons. Falling in love with the lands and their world very quickly, she soon learns what it is to be Viking.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a reference to Luke 10 at the end of the story. It is not completely accurate! The basic idea is there but the story was embellished in a way I thought the reader may have heard from their father.

_“Again!” he yells after knocking you down._

_Groaning, you push yourself back up to your feet. You can’t remember the last time that your muscles hadn’t protested your movements but that was to be expected with who your father was._

_After you picked up your knives you found your center and waited for the attack to come your way. One of your father’s men ran towards you and you were able to maneuver around him, then the second. But it was when the third came that you worried. You had been training and training, working at this for months but you always seemed to lose when a third opponent was added to the mix._

_While fighting against the two in front of you, dodging the blows or moving with them, you tried to keep an eye for the third man that would be jumping into the fray. Seeing the glint of metal from the corner of your eye, you move to block when suddenly there’s an arm around your throat and your feet are knocked from under you._

_You hit the floor and this time an audible groan escapes you with the impact._

_“Again!” your father yells._

Your father had instilled many things in you before he’d allowed you into the world of man. He had trained you until you could stand in line with his fiercest men and stand against them.

You had studied the fighting styles of Persians, Romans, Greeks, Scandanavian and then he’d started on the political training. You’d never had any real interest in it, more interested in war tactics than in court evenings. Such was the way of children. But, your father had reminded you countless times that the two are different sides of the same coin. Though arguably, a battle on the battlefield was actually easier as you usually knew who your enemies were but a battle in court required a step finer than any warrior. Many times, it was carried it in sly words from the lips of those who proclaimed to be your friends or on the toes of assassins.

Moving to the bow of the ship, you had turned and watched your fathers men navigate by the stars. It had been at least a moons cycle since leaving your homeland and you had begun to get anxious. You remember you had turned to the sea scanning the waters, trying to find some kind of light against the pitch black.

“When will we get there?”

“Patient Binti, we will arrive in Kattegat soon enough,” your father had said. His tone was soft against your ear. You’re not sure if time has warped the memory but you could swear that you remembered being able to feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You know,” you had said as you crossed back to your cabins, your father following not far behind. “While no one will say it outright, they do say that the Queen, Aslaug is detached from her sons and that after some affair years ago, she has become somewhat of a recluse. The brothers are a confusing story though it sounds that they do not get along.”

“So you have been paying attention to the traveling merchants and the reports my men bring back,” your father’s voice was laced with pride and there was that sparkle in his eye that was usually there when you’d passed one of your tests.

It had been a worry of his the last couple of years before this journey. Though he knew, that even at such a young age, you would be able to stand your own in an actual battle and had seen you destroy unjust rulers, he always worried that you did not pay attention to the unsaid words or the underlying meanings. So, it was good to see that you had paid attention to the things that he and your mother had taught you.

“What are we actually doing in Kattegat, Abba?” You’d asked as you’d sat on the small bed, making yourself comfortable.

Your father had made himself comfortable in one of the chairs, sitting not far from your bed, “One of our men has advised that one of the brothers, Bjorn, was interested in setting up a set of trades and, perhaps, interested in traveling towards the Mediterranean.”

Bjorn… you had had to think about what you had heard of the brothers and when you did you’d asked your father if Bjorn had indeed been the one Ragnarsson who wasn’t born of the current queen.

Your father had gladly told you the story of Bjorn’s mother. They said his mother is a fierce Shield-maiden and that when King Ragnar went to ask for her hand in marriage before he had become King, he had to fight a bear and a wolf before he was able to win her hand.

You had thought it was romantic but you remember telling your father, “Baba, one cannot fight a bear and a wolf at the same time. One or the other sure, but with both? There’s no way!”

Laughing, your father had stood up, “Perhaps you are right, my Binti.” He’d then crossed and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Rest young one, we will be in Kattegat before nightfall tomorrow and you must be rested as I am told that they have grand receptions. We would not want to insult our hosts, now would we?”

You can remember being much too excited that night to get much sleep and the next day, you had watched as Kattegat came into view. You can remember the awe that had filled you as your father’s ships had come to dock in the harbor and you saw the different people trading amongst themselves. There were men whose hair was longer than even some of the women you knew. Women here, it seemed, were allowed to be warriors as there were many that wore something you thought was armor.

Queen Aslaug had met you, your father and his men at the docks and welcomed you. With her stood 5 boys. She’d introduced them as Bjorn and her sons, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ivar.

That had been almost five summers ago and since then your father had established trade with Kattegat. Many others have as well and Now Kattegat is a major trading city. While you did travel home and to other lands with your father, after that first trip, you had been allowed to return pretty consistently Your father seemed to have developed a fondness for the Ragnarssons that surprised you. It was rare for your father to care for many outside of yourself, your mother, or his men. He would even be sending some of his men with Bjorn when they went to explore the Mediterranean and you wondered if they would set up more trade or if they planned on simply raiding the towns they came across.

Queen Aslaug had seemed pleased with you returning but truthfully, you couldn’t be sure if she was as you usually saw her somewhat intoxicated and it had been worse since King Ragnar had returned. You understood it, she had been left to raise four boys on her own while dealing with their brother at the same time.

Though you only ever saw Bjorn treat Queen Aslaug with respect, you could tell that she was wary of him. You’d paid attention in the courts in England and throughout the Middle East. To you, it seemed that Queen Aslaug had the same idea that many others had. Her rivals child would come for her children’s seat.

Ivar had been in constant pain as a child and, even when your family had first come, she doted on him at the cost of her own children. Those unsaid things had been true.

You had just gotten to your rooms within the Great Hall after a long day of training with Ubbe, and an even longer time in the bath, when there was a knock at the door.

You hadn’t seen the brothers since this afternoon. You had spent much of the morning training with them but then Ragnar had wanted to speak to them.

Ivar and Ubbe both invited you to join them but you’d sent them on their way, telling them that it was important that they spend time with their father, after the years he had been gone, it was important that they spend time with him alone. After they had gone, you had spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through Kattegat.

Most of the locals recognized you and they always treated you with respect. The women, both young and old, seemed to like to talk to you and you could sometimes spend hours talking to them about your home and telling them stories of the places you had seen and the people you had met.

The men, however, were a different story. You suspect that has more to do with the Ragnarssons than anything else though. Most of the older men treated you as a niece or a daughter, they were kind to you and would help you when you needed something but the younger men avoided you like the plague.

Once the door opened, you were surprised to see who it was at the door. Smiling, you stepped aside and motioned for the youngest of the brothers to come in, “I thought you may have retired for the night.”

“And why is that?” the brunette asked as he moved into your room.

“Well, it may have to do with not having heard from you or any of your thralls all day, can you truly blame me?”

Leaving the door open, you crossed back into the room and sat in the chair across from him as he pulled himself into the chair. Once situated, he scoffed, “Don’t be stupid, of course, I would come to see you! When have I ever missed a day when you are here?”

Laughing, you tucked your legs beneath your chin while sitting on the chair. “Who is to say that you have not grown bored of me?” you tease him, the jest in your voice obvious and still he tenses.

In typical Ivar fashion, he ignores the comment. Instead, he says “He wants to sail to back to England.”

You had known well enough that Ragnar would want something with his sons. Is that not what all fathers want? For their children to continue their legacy? Sighing you avoid looking at Ivar and turn your gaze into the fire in the hearth, “Will you go with him?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course, I will go!”

“And what of your brothers? Will any of them go?”

Ivars scoff gives you all the answers that you need. He will be the only one to go.

“You’ll have to be careful Ivar. The people there are not, they’re not like you or anyone in Kattegat. They are not even like my people.”

‘What do you mean?”

“They have taken their God and corrupted him. If you read their book, the one they call the bible, you would see that their God is a loving God, one that no longer demands a sacrifice for forgiveness. There was a story that stood out to me, it was one of a man who was traveling through an area and had been robbed and beaten, left for dead on the side of the road- “

“Well then he wasn’t a very good man,” Ivar interrupts you, “What kind of man-”

“Oh shush!” you swat at him, “That’s not the point of the story. Let me tell it,” you tell him and wait for his response. Ivar doesn’t like to be interrupted and it’s not much different with you but you’ve never been afraid to fight back with him so he motions for you to continue, “Thank you. Anyways, so the story goes that this man apparently was attacked on one of their holy days, and so there were thousands upon thousands of people from his own home town that went right by him because it was a holy day and somehow that meant that they couldn’t help him. They left him to die Ivar. But that this one man did stop. The man helped get him care and paid an innkeeper to look after the man as he got better.”

“What does it matter, so one of them decided to help a beaten man during a holy day. They should have let him die.”

It takes you a moment to realize that you had missed a part of the story, “Ivar, the man that saved the broken man? That was his enemy. Someone that should have killed him or let him die.”

“Then he is an idiot.”

“No, he was compassionate. Have we not talked about how compassion can help a person. Or are you saying you would have picked up the man and taken him to a healer?”

Ivar shrugs his shoulders and you can’t help but shake your head, “My point is, father always said that the English are more like the ones that left him for dead. They will pretend that they care about their God or even other people but they do not. So, please, just be careful?”

“You worry too much, you almost sound like mother.”

“It’s only because we care Ivar. Don’t make it a bad thing. Now, will you be careful?”

You can feel him scrutinizing you. It’s one of his favorite past times that you still do not understand, but he has always done it. This time, he gets off the chair and begins to drag himself out of your chambers without a word.

“Ivar?’ you call after him, your voice hard and demanding.

“I will be careful but only because I choose to be. Not because you have asked me to or because my mother chooses to worry,” he says before nodding his head towards you and making his way out of the room.


	2. Many Awkward Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I adjusted the writing to be in the third person versus the second person.

Azira had spent time with the Ragnarssons the next morning, it seemed that they trained more and more with their separation pending. They trained with each other, taking swords and ax to each other and to her.

She worked with Ubbe as the two of tried to outdo the other with bow and arrow. Ubbe had gotten better over the years, as anyone would with practice, but she had been at this particular skill set longer and so she was able to split his arrow in half once he'd shot. 

“How do you always do that? Hmm?” he asks as he checks out the arrow after he’s walked to the target, a mounted deer head, and pulled the arrows from its eye.

“Because she is Viking,” Ivar states with a shrug, as if it is the most natural and obvious thing in the world, and Azira merely laughs, shaking her head.

“You are Viking?” Ubbe asks with that teasing smirk, moving towards the girl with a raised eyebrow.

“I would say that the gods favor me. Though seeing as I am not of the North, I do not think that you can say I am Viking.”

Ubbe’s stalked forwards towards her and the two stand chest to chest, almost as if demanding something of the other. She hears Ivar scoff before there’s the sound of another arrow being loosed. Looking over Ubbe’s shoulder, she sees that this one, it would seem, finds purchase in the same one Ubbe had made.

Ubbe turns to look at the arrow that had been lodged in the deer’s eye, “You are Viking.”

“If you say so Ubbe.”

Azira notices Ivar look at her as though he wants to make a comment but says nothing. She raises a questioning eyebrow at him and he scoffs before turning at the sound of steel. Hvitserk and Sigurd are training in close combat. One with sword and the other with ax. Hvitserk has always been slightly more ruthless than his brother but, to him, the fight is merely a game. Sigurd always seems to want something more out of his fights. Though no one is quite sure what exactly it is that he is looking for. 

“Ivar, hand me an arrow,” she demands, putting her hand out. 

“What do you plan on doing?” Ubbe asks her. 

Feeling the weight of the arrow, she smirks, “Absolutely nothing." 

Neither of the Ragnarssons believes her she's sure as she lifts the bow and notches the arrow. Eyes following the two males in front of her, she does the calculations. Watching the way the move, knowing the way they usually spar. It's not long before she pulls the arrow back, waiting for the perfect moment to release it. 

When the time comes, the arrow soars through the air and slips between both boys heads. Both stop and turn to look in the direction the arrow had come, her direction. She can see that Sigurd is ready to blame Ivar for it but he doesn’t say anything when his eyes land upon her with bow in your hand.

There’s a tense moment but soon enough, the other three boys are laughing and the training resumes once again.

As the sun rose, chores called. It was not much later that she informed the boys that she would meet them at the water’s edge, not far from Floki’s for the night's meal. 

She had arrived at Flokis house and greeted Helga as an old friend. While unsure of the Queen’s opinion of her here, Azira knew that Helga treasured it. At first, Loki had been against it but, she'd come along with Ivar often enough that eventually, he warmed up to her and now he even greeted her with enthusiasm.

“Binti!” he laughed as he pulled her into your arms, “What are you doing here?”

“I figured that I would come help Helga with the days chores and prep that nights meal. Queen Aslaug has told the thralls not to make the boys any food. Though why I am not sure.”

There’s a flash of anger across Flokis features that she doesn’t miss but he doesn’t say anything. Merely welcomes your help and soon you are working beside Helga.

The two women sing songs softly as they work through the morning. It’s not long before Azira is starting a fire for the meal. A rustling sound catches her attention and she turns to see a man with piercing blue eyes and a messy faded beard with a bald head. The two of watch each other for a moment before he speaks, “Are you the one they call Binti?”

“I am. And who are you?”

He looks surprised for a moment but then he’s laughing. He seems genuinely happy that Axira does not seem to know him. Worried at his reaction, Azira drops one of her throwing knives into the palm of her hand should she need it.

“I am just an old fool.”

Gripping the knife a little tighter she nods her head at him, “Well then, Old Fool, I must be going. There is work yet to do.”

She moves to step away from him when Helga calls out, “Binti, would you wake Ragnar?”

“No need, I am already awake,” the Old Fool calls out and for some reason, Azira is not at all surprised that

“You are the one that they call Ragnar?”

He smiles at her and Azira finds that it’s an infectious smile. Instead of being angry, she merely shakes your head in disbelief. “Come then, we must go and see what it is that Helga wants.”

He grips her shoulder and turns her towards where Helga and Floki. The group sits down for the midday meal and chat amongst themselves. Floki, Azira notices, is over the moon to have Ragnar back but there are still tensions there.

Ragnar tells stores of his travels. How most thought him a mad fool. Though, somehow, things were always provided for. Even when he had to sleep outside, he had a warm fire to keep away the chill.

“It would seem the gods bless you even now Ragnar,” Helga smiled and Floki beamed.

Azira noticed that Ragnar did not agree but merely smiled and raised his cup in acknowledgment, the smile on his lips not reaching his eyes. Ragnar turned his attention to you and began to ask questions.

Azira and Ragnar continued the conversation and she found that she would watch what she said. She did not know him outside of the stories that Floki and the villagers had provided. The only thing she knew about him directly was that he wanted to return to England. 

“You do not like me very much, do you?” he says suddenly.

Tilting her head she can feel the small quirk of your lips, “And what makes the Great Ragnar, Odinsson say such a thing?”

“Your words are measured against me. You seem not to want to say anything.”

“I don’t know you. We have no stories to share.”

“Then why not regale me with the stories of my sons?”

“Which would you like to hear?”

“Well, how did you meet?”

“The travels of my father brought us here. He seemed to enjoy the land, as did I, and so he allowed me to stay. I have visited from the thawing of the ice to the falling of the ice ever since then. I have grown close to your sons and would keep them safe if given the chance. But, that is not the Viking way, is it? Every last one of you longs for a glorious death.”

“And do you not?”

“I am not Viking. I am Binti, I fight without hesitation and without pity. My job will be to ensure that the great evils of the world are not unleashed upon the innocent.”

“And who would you say is innocent?”

“Those that stand with me.”

“And if they stand against you?”

Up until this point, she had remained relaxed, but there was something in his tone that was perceived as a threat. Leaning forward, she held his gaze and spoke, “Then that is where Viking and Binti are the same, for if they stand against me I will show no mercy.” The words held an edge to them, venom dripping as they promised retribution. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must see your sons are fed,” she said as she stood. Dismissing herself from the situation she found herself in. 

It wasn't much later that Azira found the Ragnarsson. She spent some time with the boys at the water’s edge. After they had eaten, Sigurd had dismissed himself and Ubbe had picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder he'd rushed her into the water with Hvitserk. It took her a moment to break through the water and when she did she screamed out his name. 

Ubbe merely splashed water at her again and the three of them found themselves playing amongst the water. It wasn't long before she'd dragged Ubbe under the surf. 

Moving out of the way, she watched for Ubbe. It did not take him long to break through the surface. When he did, he shook the water from his hair, searching for the girl in question “Binti!!” He called out as he chased after her. 

Azira laughed and ran out of the water, quickly scanning the beach she found Ivar and made her way towards him. Calling his name, she watched as he turned his head towards her and the gears turning before he'd put together what happened. 

Smirking, the youngest Ragnarsson calls out, “Come on Princess! You can take him!”

She made it to the place in the sand where he sat and turned, seeing that Ubbe was still in the water she scolded, “You could have told me he’d stopped.”

“You should have known,” he countered.

Shrugging at him, she provided, “Perhaps I just wanted you to save me?”

A snort escaped his lips, “Azira, Binti Ra’s al Ghul, needing saving? That’s about as likely as Floki turning his back on the gods.”

“You give me much too much credit Ivar. I am merely human amongst the great Ragnarssons,” Azira laughed as she sat with him. 

“Azira, you are so much more than merely human,” he whispers. It’s in that same tone that reveals his vulnerabilities. A tone that he only ever uses with her and Ubbe. Azira isn't sure she's ever even heard the same tone when he speaks to his mother.

Azira is about to respond when Sigurd returns. 

“She said yes!” he exclaims as if he’s surprised at the fact that, whoever she is, she said yes.

Azira and Ivar both have looks of confusion on their faces and she turns to ask Sigurd what he means but Ubbe is chuckling and Hvitserk scoffs in disbelief. Before she can say anything, Hvitserk speaks, “Did Ubbe not tell you. You are a son of Ragnar Lothbrook. Of course, she would want you!”

Hvitserk is waggling his eyebrows at his brother and it takes her a moment to piece together what it is they’re talking about but as soon as she does, she feels her spine stiffen and her cheeks flush. 

Ubbe is the first to realize that she is still there and tries to say something but she shakes her head and clears her throat. Standing, she finds that she has the brother's attention and nods towards them as a group, “I will take my leave,” she smiles softly, “The day tomorrow promises to be long and I promised Helga to help her with many chores. Floki too.”

“We will accompany you to your rooms. Ensure your safety,” Hvitserk says as he leans down to pick up his things.

“Bah! I do not need you to treat me as a child. I can make it to my rooms safely. Besides, no one in Kattegat has raised a hand against me in many years,” she snaps back. “I do not need your help. I will see you all in the days to come.”

Walking away, she makes it past some of the tree lines before stepping behind a tree trunk. Heart beating rapidly in her chest, she finds that she needs a moment to recover before going on. She did not want to hear of any of the brothers’ exploits with any woman. Of course, she knew they were men, and like all other men and women they had desires but the idea of hearing of any of them with a woman - it set her skin to crawl. The idea of it bothered her in ways she could not explain. 

“You idiots!” Ubbes voice carries on the wind, “How could you think to speak that way in front of Azira? Have you no respect?”

“How was I to know she would be here?” Sigurd defended himself and she wanted to laugh at the expected reply.

she was willing to bet that Hvitserk would apologize for it and was not surprised when she heard him say he had lost himself in the moment, excited for his brother.

“You need to remember that Azira is a Princess. She is the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul and a good friend of ours. Treat her as the Queen she will one day be.”

Her boys were silent after that and Azira took the opportunity it presented to move through the shadows towards the Great Hall and her rooms. 

Once she'd entered the rooms, she prepared herself for sleep. Removing the outerwear of the day and changing into a soft nightgown, one that was breathable in the hot summer air. Releasing her hair from the braids it had been in, she brushed through it. With each stroke, she found herself becoming homesick, ready for the return of her father’s ambassador so that she could go back to her mountains. It was an interesting feeling. One that she was not aware that she could feel as Kattegat had always been a home to her, just as her mountains were.

She had been so lost in thought that she'd not heard the boys arrive back to the hall. Or they had been quiet enough as to not draw her attention. So, when a knock came to the door, she startled and grabbed one of her daggers before moving towards the door. 

Standing just before the door, she debated opening it. Sure, there were guards around should anything happen but she was not in the mood to argue with the boys about her safety for the next few days. 

“Azira,” came his hushed whisper and she relaxed for a moment before calling out for him to come in.

The door opened and there stood Ubbe, contrition written upon his features. He looked at the girl he'd known for years and offered a smile, “I am glad you made it back safely.”

She scoffed softly, “Did you think I would not?”

“Of course note, I just wanted to be sure for myself. To see it with my own eyes.”

“Well as you see, I am safe and preparing for bed Ubbe.”

He nodded his head and moved to leave the room. Before he crossed the threshold, however, he stopped. Clearing his throat, he addressed her, “About earlier,” he began only for Azira to cut him off.

“It is of no concern Ubbe. You and your brothers are alive. There is blood that flows through your bones. I would not see any of you deny yourselves the things that you truly desire.”

“Still, we should not have spoken about it in your presence.”

“It would not change my opinion if you hadn’t. You could even give me a list of all the women you have each been with and I would be telling you the same.”

“Still, I would see you treated as the Queen you will one day be.”

She couldn’t help the soft smile that threatened to spill from her lips, “I am not a Queen, Ubbe. Nor do I plan to be one.”

“You may not plan on it, but one day you will be. You will be the new Ra’s al Ghul. Leader of your people and that makes you a Queen,” he says with a soft shrug.

There are other things that the two can argue about but Azira knows from history, this is on of the things that Ubbe will not be swayed from. She thanks him for his words and high opinion of her, no matter how much she thinks it misplaced. 

“Goodnight then Zira, allow the gods to give you rest. And truthfully, if any offense was taken at Sigurds carelessness - “

“It’s fine Ubbe. Go, get some rest yourself,” she shushes him. Rushing him out the door, she waits for the sounds of his footsteps to retreat before making her way to her own bed.


End file.
